


Necromancer

by Leaveitbrii



Series: Red and The Big Bad [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Heterochromia, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Non-Graphic Violence, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:05:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaveitbrii/pseuds/Leaveitbrii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not possible, Stiles. Not without a lot of work.”</p><p>Stiles looks at him and takes it. “You’re not suppose to tell me that.” </p><p>“No, no I’m not.”</p><p> </p><p>Or when Stiles becomes a bit obsessed with not wanting to lose anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necromancer

Stiles sometimes consider himself human.

It’s not as if he sits up contemplating his own humanity because he doesn’t. He knows that normal humans can’t heal themselves, don’t run with wolves, or catch faeries or hunters that threaten his way of life, that threaten his town. He personally didn’t care for Beacon Hills, didn’t care for her size, the trouble she attracted despite nothing being here but he did care for the family he scrounged together in the past year. As far as they were concerned he wasn’t human either even if he wasn’t a werewolf. Lydia had called him a witch once. He just wanted to keep them alive.

Stiles stands in the woods alone, his sweatshirt clutched tightly in his hands by his side. He can see the markings of claws along the trees, fresh, vicious. There are speckles of blood along the bark, fallen leaves disrupted by large footprints. The forest floor trembles beneath him, voices ringing in the distance.

“I heard the Hale boy still lives in the house.”

A snort. “What are we goin’ to do about it?”

Stiles moves steadily towards the voices, catching glimpse of an orange fire and two figures sitting around it, shotguns laid beside them. There is a cage set up beside them, filled with something large and black. The faint stench of blood slips under his nose and he frowns. A whimper comes from the inside of the cage, broken and dying. It sets his skin on fire. One of the figures kicks at it, angrily, snarling out a stream of profanities.

“How do we know its one of them?” 

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll hear this mutt and come crashing through here like its one of their own.” The man spits into the ground. “I paid a lot of money for this damn thing to get here, putting it to use should be easy.”

Based on their voices, he knows they’re men. They clap hands as if they’ll receive the desired effects. Stiles frowns deeply, glancing at the cage as he draws near. He knew that whatever was in the cage was not supernatural, just a something caught in the crossfire. Stiles assumes it’s a wolf.

“We’ll get a lot of money for wiping out those monsters and the Hale bitch.”

Stiles wrinkles his nose at the nickname and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He can see their intentions, stripes of orange painting their minds as they smile at each other. The wolf in the cage whimpers again, earning another kick to the metal. 

‘”That’s awfully rude.” 

The men startle, standing immediately, guns trained on him. 

“Shit, Jim, it’s a boy.”

The other man, Jim, spits in his general direction, eyes moving over him. “Ain’t you got some homework to be doin’? It’s a bit late for kiddies to be out.”

The other man rounds the fire to them. “He’s got some tats. Can’t be that old.”

Jim points the butt of his gun at him. “Say, Copper, didn’t someone say that one of them monsters had boy that was tatted?”

Copper is watching him curiously, mouth hanging open as he begins snapping his fingers rapidly. He nudges Jim in the side roughly. “You’re right, Jim.”

Jim smirks deviously. “Well, well. You must be the Hale bitch.”

“Guess we can kill that one now that we got the boy.” Copper mentions.

Stiles gives them a brief smile. “Oh you don’t have me. I have you.”

Copper appears startled by this, his fingers tightening around the trigger of his gun. He glances at Jim, who rolls his eyes. “The boy is human. Don’t be dumb.”

He looks to Stiles. “Don’t make this difficult. Might keep ya alive afterwards.”

Stiles folds his jacket and sets it on the ground, rolling his shoulders once as a crackling sound fills the air. He lunges for Jim, easily taking the man down while Copper scrambles to keep his balance before falling into the dirt. Stiles straddles the man’s chest and grips Jim’s face, the pads of his fingers pressing deeply into the skin. They begin to sink into the flesh, indentions raising the skin of his face as the fingers move and stretch underneath. Jim’s scream pierces his ears, ringing beautifully. 

Stiles can hear the sounds of Copper scrambling to his feet and taking off. He leans into Jim, whispering soft chants into his forehead. Stiles digs his fingers into the man’s brain, the screaming stopped, lifeless grey eyes staring up at him.

“Help me find your friend?”

Stiles rises to his feet, flicking the gore from his hands lazily. Jim’s body stands crookedly, head lolled to one side, legs struggling to straighten. The body nods into the darkness becoming more stable with each jerky movement. Soon its down on all fours, charging into the direction Copper ran into. Stiles moves over to the cage, small cooing noises leaving his lips. The wolf curls away from him.

“Oh, you’re just a baby.” Stiles sighs, smelling the tang of its pain. “I can make it go away.”

The wolf turns to him, golden eyes dimming. It hesitates but eventually moves from the corner of the cage and into Stiles’ open arms. The fur is soft, black like Derek’s but Stiles knows these wounds are too deep, fatal and psychological. He can hear Copper’s loud scream followed closely by silence. The wolf howls faintly.

His mother had taught him compassion.

 

xx

Derek finds him in the study, legs curled to his chest as he stares out the large window. The glass is a frosty blue, dented and shaped by the soft leaves of trees. A hand presses into his shoulder, thumb brushing under the short hairs. Stiles enjoys the moments of silence when Derek doesn’t encourage his ramblings or when the house is still. 

He’ll think of his mother, spinning wool on an old sewing machine, hair brown and beautiful, humming while his father cooks downstairs and Stiles rolls around at her feet. He doesn’t think of their deaths, the way they melted in front of him, flesh burning black or the way his mother reached out to him.

“I found a wolf dying in the forest yesterday.”

Derek’s thumb rubs small circles into his skin.

xx

He holds a swallow in his hand, crushed from the cruelness of nature. Its feathers are red with blood, caked together, beak parted. Stiles sits on the porch of the Hale house, eyes focused on the bird. He watches the tattoos on his arms bleed up his skin, trailing his fingers until they press into the bird. They blacken into the feathers, the bird’s tiny chest beginning to rise and fall faintly.

Stiles’ lips part in surprise and he spreads his hands out. The bird’s wings twitch, flapping faintly as life sinks back into it. Excitement ripples across his features, arms extended outwards as the swallow stands weakly, wings batting over the palms of his hands. It turns to him, head tilting to the side.

“It worked.” He breathes, a smile splitting across his face.

Stiles brings it inside the house, into the kitchen readying water so he can clean off the blood. He sets the swallow on the counter, impressed that it stays put. Stiles cleans the blood away carefully, unperturbed that the bird hasn’t made a sound since its revival. He smiles when it’s able to spread its feathers. 

His smile falls away to the swallow chirping. It’s a mechanical, terrifying noise that fills the room with a horrifying sound as it relives its last moments.

The bird crumples to the counter.

xx

“Your eye is different.” Derek murmurs a kiss into the skin under his ear. Stiles nods absently, whimpering softly when the touch turns into a bite. His fingers are tangled in the alpha’s dark hair, head tilted back into the other’s shoulder, back arched. Derek is pressed against his back, dick buried deep inside him, hips like pistons as he works Stiles against the wall.

“I, ah, ah fuck,” He pants. “didn’t notice.”

Derek nips at his skin and Stiles releases his hair, sandwiching his arms in between his chest and the wall, mumbling incoherently into the paint. He hears the drywall crackle under the pressure of his fingers, gasping when Derek pushes him further into it, lifting his hips upward. 

“Isaac said he saw you kill a bird.” Derek says, halting his movements.

“Dude,” Stiles whines, trying to move back against him. “later. Please. Just. Fucking. Move.”

“Nope.” Derek’s voice is strained, his level of self control a bit startling.

“I fucking hate you.” Stiles groans. “I brought it back. I didn’t kill it. It died again.”

Derek rocks against him once. “Stiles, we talked about this.”

“I know, I- fuck, Derek. I know I’m sorry.” He hisses when the head brushes over his prostate.

Derek sighs heavily behind him, large hands gripping his hips tightly. He inches out slowly before slamming back in. Stiles cries out, nails digging into the wall as Derek pounds away. He pants into the air; head tossed back, slivers of saliva trailing down his chin. 

Stiles comes with Derek’s teeth deep in his shoulder.

xx

Deaton sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He stares tiredly at Stiles, who is slumped on the surgical table.

“It’s a reaction.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I know that. I’m not here because I want to be.”

“He’s worried about you. Says you’ve become-“

“I’m not obsessed.” Stiles snaps impatiently, left eye dilating.

Deaton smiles apologetically. “Tell me about the bird.”

“I found it outside the house, somewhere near the steps. A cat or something had gotten to it.” Stiles explains, rubbing a hand over his hair. “It came back long enough for me to clean it up but it reverted back pretty quickly. It was different.”

“Different than your parents?”

“Yeah.”

Deaton clicks his tongue, straightening to his full height. He eyes Stiles warily before disappearing into his office. Upon returning he brings a book, its old, wrinkled with a bent spine. Deaton holds it out to him.

“It’s not possible, Stiles. Not without a lot of work.”

Stiles looks at him and takes it. “You’re not suppose to tell me that.” 

“No, no I’m not.”

Stiles finds Derek waiting for him in the next room. The alpha’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

xx

He spends his time in the study of the house, Boyd coming in every so often with tea, sometimes a sandwich. Stiles learns that there is a limit to resurrecting the dead, timelines that must be followed strictly. He learns that he can make body suits out of whoever he sees fit in exchange for a piece of him. The book doesn’t explain further but Stiles has an idea of what that could mean. 

Derek doesn’t visit, the entire pack feeling the weight of the rift growing between them. It hurts but not enough to stop Stiles from reading, from trying. It does take work and a lot of it. It takes Stiles nearly losing his arm to bring back a raccoon. It also starts their first argument.

“We talked about this, Stiles! You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore, not after what happened! Are you that keen on destroying yourself?!” 

Stiles has never heard Derek shout, not at the kids, especially not at him. He’s a bit taken back, eyes glazing over as he watches Derek shake with anger, muscles rippling, hands tightly nestled into fists. 

“Derek-“

“You’re obsessed with-“

Stiles frowns. “I’m not obsessed!”

“But you are, Stiles!” 

“It’s not my fault! I want to see what I did wrong so I can do it right in the future!”

Derek barks out a laugh. “Ok. And now you know, so stop it.”

“I can’t. I have to be sure. I’m trying my fucking hardest to make this work because I can’t let anything happen to any of you.”

“You’ve been bringing back animals. Animals aren’t people, Stiles. You nearly lost your arm because of a god damn raccoon!”

Stiles swallows thickly. “I know. I know. It will work. I promise.”

Derek levels him with a glare. “What if we don’t want to come back? People die for a reason. It’s a part of life.”

Stiles shakes his head fiercely. “No, no! I can’t lose you guys. Why.. Why are you doing this? You can’t say things like that.” His voice cracks, eyes wide with tears.

“Ok, Stiles.” And he’s never sounded so tired. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, always sighing. He doesn’t look at Stiles when he turns to leave, hands relaxing. 

Stiles doesn’t see him for the rest of the day.

xx

The hunter shoves him roughly onto the ground, the bottom of his boot shoved into Stiles’ face. He sneers at him, smirking at the blackened blood that seeps from his broken nose. Stiles grunts in pain, his right arm broken underneath him. His chest has been pumped full of sulfur, his mind supplying a joke about how that was their favorite spot as his body writhed in pain.

They had taken him from school, the new principal, Gerard calling him to the office for questions raised about having tattoos in school. He wasn’t expecting three other men to be there or a shot to the chest or being dragged to some abandoned warehouse two counties over but well, here we are.

“Now, now. Don’t be so rude to our guest.” Gerard walks up to them, his hair white, a cruel smile curled onto his lips. “I had no idea monsters could keep such a gem. You see, Stiles, might I call you Stiles? You took something away from me. A daughter.” 

Stiles tenses up, air forcing its way from his lungs. He watches Gerard draw near, arms clasped behind his back as he walks. The hunter removes his boot from Stiles’ face and steps away. Rough, wrinkled hands grasp his chin, jerking him upwards. Stiles grits his teeth against a scream, legs twitching to find purchase in the ground.

“A birdie told me there was a boy who could bring her back.”

Gerard drops Stiles to the ground, the dust on the warehouse floor flowing into his lungs immediately. He can hear movement, vision blurring as he sees a black body bag being carried towards him. A limp arm falls out of it, dangling uselessly over the concrete. Gerard grips a fistful of Stiles hair, mouth close to his ear.

“Bring her back and I won’t destroy that pitiful pack you call a family.”

xx

Kate doesn’t come back in the way Gerard wants. She’s been dead too long, her soul trapped down in hell long ago, but that doesn’t mean that Stiles tried to bring her back, doesn’t mean that Stiles can’t use the body to his advantage. Stiles wheezes, chest seizing every time he tries to breathe deeply. Kate’s body rises, her eyes scanning her arms and hands with faux interest; her thoughts are his. Gerard’s face splits into wide smile and he approaches her, arms spread.

Stiles tries to keep focus, the barrel of a shotgun pressing into the back of his head. He blinks once, then twice, the vision in his left eye fading in and out. There is a blur of black moving behind the crates of the warehouse. A smile threatens to break out on his face when he sees a flash of red.

“What about the witch?” The hunter behind him grunts.

Not-Kate turns to him, smiling. “We’ll get to him later. I’d like to celebrate.”

Gerard claps her on the shoulder, genuinely pleased. The death on her face still isn’t quite gone yet, grey where pink should be, blackened ash collected around her lips. Stiles didn’t quite understand how Gerard didn’t see that the woman in front of him wasn’t Kate or maybe he didn’t want to. 

Stiles eyes slip closed and he orders Not-Kate to kill her father.

xx

Stiles wakes up in his own bed, pillows surrounding him in a fort shape. It has Scott and Isaac written all over it. He sits up with a strange ease, bandages wrapped around his chest and torso. There are stuffed animals on a tray beside the bed holding unopened cards and candy boxes. He wonders how long he’s been out. Stiles inhales deeply, testing the strength of his lungs.

Voices ring from downstairs, growing louder and louder with each step. The door is practically snatched off its hinges when they come bouncing inside, smiles and food present. Stiles inwardly groans, his arms suddenly full of Isaac, followed by Scott. Erica is next then Boyd. There is no Lydia or Jackson this time but there is a Derek standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He’s smiling faintly.

“How long?” Stiles croaks, earning a giggle from Erica.

“Two weeks.” Boyd responds.

“Dude, I can’t even think of an excuse.”

Scott looks up at him from his lap. “Deaton handled it.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “He’s a vet.”

Scott merely shrugs so Stiles doesn’t question it. He glances Derek, their gazes locking. Stiles feels his heart skip a beat. He wants to ask if they’re good, if he forgives him. Derek merely stares at him.

Everything seems ok.

xx

Stiles stares at his reflection, face relaxed in awe. His eye was a solid color now, no more speckles of green and blue and amber. It was crisp grey color, bright enough for people to notice. There were clusters of dark shapes circling the pupil, flexing and shrinking as the light hit it. 

“It’s a side effect.” Stiles wants to laugh, but his throat is dry. He wonders if his mother would have been proud of him for being able to now completely protect the ones he loves, to do for them what he couldn’t do for her and his father. Or maybe she’d be angry by his recklessness. Stiles sinks to the floor, back pressed to the door. 

He was doing the best he could.

xx

He finds Derek in the study, flipping idly through the book Deaton had given him.

“I’m sorry I got upset with you.”

Stiles wanders over to him, pushing the book aside as he climbs into the alpha’s lap with ease. He buries his face into Derek’s chest, sighing when thick arms wrap around him.

“I just want them to live, to go to college, make a family, be with that family, eat shitty tapioca pudding and die old.” Stiles mumbles, rubbing his cheek into the smooth fabric of Derek’s Henley. “I need to talk to them about it. You were right.”

“I already talked to them.” 

xx

Stiles holds the headboard, his nose brushing Derek’s, thighs trembling as he moves in time with each sharp thrusts. Sweat beads slide down the side of his forehead, catching on his tongue as he wets his lips. His lower lip is bleeding, having been bruised and irritated by Derek’s teeth. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Stiles smiles faintly, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. Derek’s hands are on his hips, guiding him. There are bruises, deep red crescent marks seeping into his flesh. He puts their foreheads together, moving his arms to hang over the alpha’s shoulders, swallowing a moan into a heated kiss. Stiles shudders, throbbing heat lining his insides with a growing pressure. Derek brushes a piece of hair from his face, gaze a rustic red and Stiles doesn’t understand how slow sex could be so intense and rough. 

Stiles’ breath hitches, grasping the alpha’s shoulder tightly, gaze lingering on Derek’s mouth. He shifts to look up into those red eyes; chests pressed tightly together, fingers intertwined, lips brushing. 

Stiles bites back the words he wants to say. 

xx

Derek finds Stiles asleep in bed when he returns from checking the perimeter. A thin blanket is wrapped around his bare body, hair smeared across the pillows, mouth open and drooling. His arms are tucked under Derek’s pillow, grasping them tightly to him. Derek sits down on the edge, running his fingers along the curve of the boy’s spine. A sleep filled murmur greets him, Stiles’ body arching into the touch.

Derek has tried to compare Kate to Stiles but he can’t. She couldn’t reach his level if she jumped to sky and learned to fly. Stiles was the moon, the stars, a universe unseen by man, a ticking time bomb, a sinkhole. He was everything all at once. He was human, animalistic, passionate, feral, beautiful, real.

“Come lay down with me. I can feel your creep stare.”

Stiles rubs his face further into his pillow, one hand wrapping around to grab Derek’s hand. The alpha complies, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes before climbing onto the other side of the bed. Stiles decides his chest is more comfortable and settles immediately, a small sigh escaping his lips. Derek wraps an arm around him, eyes locked on the ceiling fan above. It spins slowly.

He knows he’s in love.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it~


End file.
